Green Smoothie Summer

The padel court at the country club was where the popular kids held court - literally. I stood at the fence, clutching my racket like it might bite me, while my mom's voice echoed in my head: "You'll thank me for this, Maya. Freshman year is all about putting yourself out there."

I'd rather be literally anywhere else. Especially since I'd started the day with her latest wellness experiment: a spinach smoothie that tasted like lawn clippings blended with regret. Now I was going to embarrass myself in front of the popular crowd while my teeth were probably still green.

"You coming?" It was Liam Chen, who somehow made everything look effortless - padel, algebra, existing. He was standing near the water fountain, towel draped over his shoulders like he'd stepped out of a teen drama.

"Yeah," I managed. "Just... hydrating."

I filled my bottle at the fountain, my hands shaking so hard I nearly dropped it. This was it. My moment to prove I belonged. Instead, I fumbled my first serve into the net, then hit the next one straight into Liam's ribs.

"Nice arm," he said, rubbing his side. But he was grinning. "You play like you're mad at the ball."

I felt my face burning. "My mom signed me up. Said I need to branch out."

"Branch out from what?"

"From my room. From books. From being the girl who once got spinach stuck in her braces during picture day." Why did I say that? Now he'd know I was a loser with a capital L.

But Liam laughed. "No way. That happened to me in seventh grade. I had to give a presentation with green teeth. My friends called me Salad Boy for MONTHS."

Wait. THE Liam Chen had been publicly humiliated?

Something shifted. He wasn't perfect - he was just human. And maybe I didn't have to be perfect either.

"Wanna show me your form?" I asked. "Since I clearly need help not injuring people."

"Only if you promise not to aim for me this time."

We played for two hours. I was terrible at first, but gradually the shots started connecting. My racket felt less like a weapon and more like an extension of my arm. When I finally returned one of Liam's serves, he high-fived me so hard my palm stung.

"Not bad, Salad Girl," he said.

"Don't push it, Salad Boy."

Later, as I walked home, my phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: *This is Liam. Padel tomorrow? And bring more of those green smoothies. They're actually kind of growing on me.*

I smiled. Maybe freshman year wouldn't be so bad after all. And maybe - just maybe - spinach and padel weren't the worst things in the world.